


Hurry Down the Chimney Tonight

by IneffableAlien



Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: Christmas Fluff, Christmas Presents, Feels, M/M, Santa Baby, Self-Indulgent, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, soft lonelyeyes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-20
Updated: 2020-12-20
Packaged: 2021-03-11 04:48:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,001
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28189488
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IneffableAlien/pseuds/IneffableAlien
Summary: Elias and Peter exchange Christmas gifts.
Relationships: Elias Bouchard/Peter Lukas
Comments: 12
Kudos: 51





	Hurry Down the Chimney Tonight

**Author's Note:**

  * For [DarkledMind](https://archiveofourown.org/users/DarkledMind/gifts).
  * Inspired by [Baby, It's Cold Outside](https://archiveofourown.org/works/28233762) by [DarkledMind](https://archiveofourown.org/users/DarkledMind/pseuds/DarkledMind). 



> A holiday love letter for the whole [Simp-bot](https://twitter.com/simpbot11) Discord server.

Elias Bouchard reclined in front of the fireplace, legs kicked out straight and ankles crossed while he worked in his lap. It was 3 in the morning, technically Christmas Day but still feeling like Christmas Eve. He set his project precariously on the arm of his chair and stretched above his head, cracking places from his neck down to the bones of his toes.

As Elias shifted, so did the room. He relaxed his limbs and pursed his lips as the fire shrank down to nothing but radiating embers and ghostly wisps of steam in the rapidly cooling air. He moved his work to the coffee table, covering it with the pillow he had been using for a surface, and sat up straight in the dark.

“Peter?” he asked, the name a pale puff of cloud in the icy chill.

There was no reply, and Elias hugged himself for warmth as he glanced about in a perfectly human manner. A fine mist was coiling and snaking around his calves, and Elias shuddered when the dewy damp licked the backs of his knees, bare below the snowy fleece robe. Peter usually would have presented normally by now, but he was nowhere in Elias’s Sight.

“Peter,” Elias sniffed, arching an eyebrow, “if you’re trying to peek at your present, then you’re not being particularly sneaky about it.” Elias turned to face the tree in the corner. _“Oh …”_

Elias lived alone, and he cared for no children in his life, but there were certain things he loved about Christmas. He always put up a tree for himself. He took a secret pleasure in crafting things with his nimble fingers, and he threaded garlands of popcorn and cranberries and almonds every winter.

More importantly, holding to the tradition of his youth, he secured circles of real candles in its boughs, and Elias saw now that they remained lit despite his solemn Lonely-accosted home. They only seemed to glow even brighter due to the resulting dim. The cream-colored candles in Elias’s tree cast flickering thin shadows overtop the mound of presents that had not previously been there moments before.

“Oh, Peter,” Elias breathed, inordinately pleased, “a sable under the tree? For me?”

The coat was laid out on the floor beneath the tree, its fine silver hairs catching and reflecting the light from the candles. It was about four feet long, with plush fur as silken as a dream. A coy smile played on Elias’s lips as he allowed the luxury robe on his back to slip off his shoulders. He kicked the robe to the side, standing naked in front of the tree. Elias was slim and angular and dimpled in places where Peter liked to hook his thumbs, and Elias smirked when the temperature in the room shot up for a single shocked second.

“Well,” Elias chuckled, “I have been awful good for you, haven’t I?”

The cold resumed as Elias lifted up the coat and snuggled into it. He gave a little spin, feeling the fur whip around his thighs. Elias hummed with pleasure as he sank his chin into the ruff. Then he tensed curiously, when he reached inside the coat pockets and found a small black velvet box in one.

Elias snapped open the box. There was no label, and the unusual rose gold ring had obviously been commissioned. A large ocean grey sapphire cabochon displaying a luminous cat’s-eye band gazed up at him from a pavé diamond halo. Elias’s eyes lit up as he took the ring out of the box and slid it on his left hand. “Now _that_ is not the sort of ring you can just get on the phone,” Elias purred.

Holding his arm out to admire the twinkle on his finger, Elias noticed something setting on a branch in the tree. He frowned, picking up the photograph of the Tundra and squinting to examine it in the low light. “It’s not exactly a yacht, dear,” Elias mused, taking in the image of the dreary cargo ship.

The room felt oddly still, as if it were holding its breath. Elias furrowed his brow, turning the photo over in his hand. His lips parted when he saw Peter’s scratchy scrawl across the back.

_Good for three days at sea._

_I’ll stay the whole time._

_I won’t even throw you overboard._

Elias bit off a laugh, then felt something spike in his chest. “Careful, Peter,” he tried to joke, forcing down the emotion threatening to pierce his surface, “that isn’t very Lonely of you.”

There was silence. Then: “Yes. I would like that very much.”

The room was suddenly devoid of something as swiftly as it had been overcome. The fog rolled back, the temperature increased to normal, the fire in the fireplace lapped away like it had never died. Elias clutched his coat, nuzzling the collar contentedly, then sat in the recliner. He leaned forward and plucked his work back up from the coffee table.

Elias completed crocheting shells across the final row before tying the yarn and snipping it. He held up the finished product and shook it out, inspecting. Perhaps to some, it would not appear to be a fair trade for Peter’s clear wealth, this simple blanket in varying hues of greys and blues and greens. In Elias’s day, it was not a respected skill, one reserved primarily for the poor and the Irish.

Elias smiled, running his fingers across a cozy patch in a color not unlike Peter’s eyes. Less than fifty pounds or so for supplies, and Elias had worked on it every day for a month.

Elias knew a thing or two about what a Lukas child had to have gone without.

Elias stood. He folded the handmade afghan nice and neat and tucked it under the tree, then gathered up his bathrobe from the floor.

“Merry Christmas, Peter,” Elias said softly, resettling in the chair once more and hunkering down, dwarfed by the sable. “I’ll wait up for you, dear.”

**Author's Note:**

> xx [siliconealien](http://siliconealien.tumblr.com)


End file.
